


The Masquerade

by Foreverwriting123



Series: Batman X Reader Series [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Batfleck - Freeform, Bruce Feels, Car Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:37:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreverwriting123/pseuds/Foreverwriting123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Surely a pretty girl like you shouldn't be here alone"</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>You bite your tongue but it comes out all too quickly, "I would have had someone with me if they knew how to actually use a phone"</i></p><p>  <i>You hear a small laugh escape his lips. "Funny you should have said that, I've been too busy with many things; like organising  a charity masquerade..'</i></p><p>  <i>You stop and stare, your mouth open. Surely it can't be.</i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It's been five days since your previous encounter with Bruce Wayne and so far after ignored phone calls, you start to feel like Bruce Wayne has already given up on you.<br/>But when you are prompted to attend a masquerade on behalf of the Daily Planet, an unexpected guess leaves you lost for words again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> So after the last one I said I'd continue writing a little something!  
> Lately I've been so stressed with school work and after this month, I will be off on summer holidays!  
> So if you have any requests, leave a comment below, I'd love to hear from you!  
> And I hope you enjoy! :)

It’s been five days exactly since you’ve last seen Bruce. It was just a typical one night stand, but now as you sit here at your office desk, all the little details start to come back. His touch, his taste, he was everything you never expected a billionaire to be.

“Y/N!”

Five days ago his lips were pressed against yours. And that tongue. You can remember it now. You can remember the taste of the hint of luxurious expensive champage while it bubbled down your throat. You remember it’s persisten as it mapped out your mouth while you clung to his shoulders in your dazzled state, that rendered you senseless to all but him.

“Y/N?”

You canstill remember everything about the sex, oh dear god the sex was glorious.  
Never in your college days did you ever get anything as spectacular as that. His actions, his movement, every single moment was so effortless and lustful; it comes back so quickly that you can’t help but feel a certain tingle, a sensation that makes you do something you thought yourself to never do; yearn.

“Y/N!”

You now jump up from your seat, startled to find Perry staring down at you with stern knitted eyebrows. You try your best to suddenly act busy, tapping away at your keyboard and checking your emails.

There is a cough and an awkward gaze between the two of you before Perry finally speaks.

“I must say, Y/N, your last piece about the Gala has been getting good approval, and surprisingly, I’m rather impressed. When there’s a next celebrity event, I want you to attend and dazzle us again with your excellent editorial.”

You are about to gloat or even thank him for the wonderful opportunity before he remarks, “I need your piece on yesterday’s bank robbery on my desk tonight before.” Before you can protest, saying you have plans, when really you planned to finish your Game of Thrones marathon, he walks away, leaving you back to your abundance of work.

Now staring at your computer screen,You continue to stare at a blank screen. Curse Perry for disturbing your train of seductive thoughts.But, when you come to think of Bruce again, a sudden idea springs to mind.

You pick up your phone and quickly dial the memorised number and with a shaky breath, lift up the phone to your ear.

Thankfully there is a dial, a ring to indicate that the man you can’t stop thinking about is just at the other end. You count in your head to ten backwards and even in French just before there is a voice.

“Hello?” a voice picks up but not the voice you were expecting.

Since you can’t simply hang up, you decide to speak to the receiver. “Um, Hello, my name is Y/N and I was inquiring about Mr. Bruce Wayne.”

Suddenly there is a pause, a rather hesitant long pause that could mean so many things. 

“I’m sorry miss but I’m afraid he is not here at the moment, would you like me to take a message?”

“No thank you,” you blurt out al too quickly and you immediately hang up.

* * *

Heaving a deep sigh, you click on your mouse to access your emails for what seemed like the hundredth thousandth time in the space of five minutes. 

Everyone else had gone home already and initially it had been you who’d been the one to procrastinate and not hand up your article on time, hence the awkward bidding good night to everyone else a few hours ago. Ever since the moment you’ve been left in the office alone, your thoughts have been wandering, not at all focussing on your article.

It has been a while since you’ve heard from Bruce. He could probably be busy, so you tell yourself to be positive. It is better than admitting that you actually miss talking to him or miss him right now. Which is nonsense, it’s not like as if he feels the same way. This man had a lot of other things to care about than think about you.

But still...

Another sigh, this one dangerously close to a frustrated groan, falls from your lips as you click your computer mouse once more and spin your office chair around in frustration. Your phone glares at you, taunting you in its pristine black case, wanting you to do the unthinkable.

You press a key and the screen lights up to show that no, you hadn’t missed any incoming texts. The phone is dropped back to the table.

You are everything but a person to demand someone’s attention, especially not of a man like Bruce. 

You also aren’t the type of person to feel utter despair and boredom whenever you are alone. You actually enjoy reading a book all curled up in your favorite seat in the living room but lately.. you haven’t felt like yourself. 

The more nights you’ve spent thinking about the man who swept you off your feet, the more nights you have trouble sleeping. 

Your mind tends to wander to the thought of the billonarie more than you dared to admit.  
With a final solution in mind, you finally grab your mobile again and quickly typed out a text to Bruce while your lower lip is between your teeth with anxiousness. 

Could you really be so bold and send him a text like this? 

Before you can think it over, you quickly hit ‘send’ and release the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

Just mere seconds later, your phone starts ringing and your heart leaps in your throat as you see the caller’s ID. 

You hadn’t expected him to call back and for a brief second, you worry that he would tell you to grow up and stop bothering him; that he was busy working and couldn’t concentrate with you sending him messages about how much you missed him.

“..hello?” Your voice breaks mid-word and you have to clear your throat as you hastily sit up. 

Suddenly there is another voice on the other end, but it’s not the voice you yearned to hear. Again.

“Good evening miss, I am ringing to inform you that believe you have sent a rather inappropriate message to the wrong person.” 

Blushing you can’t help but mumble, “Oh I’m so terrible sorry, I didn’t mean to, I swear-”

“The owner of this phone wishes for you to stop calling or else you will face consequences, do I make myself clear?”

You heart sinks as you reply,”Yes sir, I’m terribly sorry for bothering you-” and before you can finish, the receiver briskfully hangs up, leaving you staring at your screen while cursing at the irresistible Bruce Wayne for using you like that.

* * *

It has been two weeks since that awkward humiliation involving a number you were sure was Bruce's.  
The entire office was estastic, it seems an annoyamus invitation had arrived inviting journalists to a ball, but not just any ball, a masquerade ball.

You couldn't help but feel agitated about the thought of attending such an extravagent event,particularly since the last event you attended had you left rather breathless.  
There was no chance you would feel the same way at this one.

"Y/N! I've added your name on the list to attend since your last article at a high event was expectional," Perry announces, hoping you would be pleased.  
"Wear a nice dress and have questions prepared and remember, whatever you do, just smile and ask the damn questions!"

You solemnly nod, returning to your work before Perry shouts across the office, "And maybe this time try and have some fun! Talk to a few fine men, or whatever you're into; I'll be keeping an eye on you!"

* * * 

The ballroom is far too crowded. It’s nearly impossible to get through the groups of people who are talking, laughing, and dancing. 

The costumes are vivid bursts of color against the black and white decorations. The invitations had requested that no one wear black or white and it seems that everyone actually listened. The orchestra plays a variety of music that keeps people moving on the dance floor but doesn’t overpower the conversations happening all over.

You are ready to leave at any time soon. You had made certain that Perry had seen you. You actually shared a dance with him and exchanged polite chit chat about the decorations, and you now can escape without being noticed. 

Crowds have never been one of your favorite things and it’s boring to wander around alone. It would be different if your date had attended with you. When you’d considered just staying home, Perry encouraged you to go because he wanted everyone to at least make an appearance at such an event like this.

So now you are here alone watching everyone have a good time.What a change from the last event you attended.

The bodice of your dark blue gown is far too low cut in your opinion, and you aren’t very happy with the amount of leg that is flashed whenever you walk. 

You had thought it would be a sexy costume without being inappropriate when you had chosen it, but that had been when you had your date wearing his tight breeches and half-laced shirt with a sensual smile on his lips that had led to her being ravaged right there in the dressing room. 

If only your date did actually exist.

You scan the room looking for anyone familiar, anyone you can pluck up the courage to interview. Besides from the few minor conversations, no one has truly grasped your full attention, plus it’’s difficult to interview anyone when everyone is wearing a mask, though some people are obvious even with part of their faces covered. 

In your case, the silly feathered mask you were handed as you arrived did nothing to hide your hair, which cascades down your back in loose curls that are just a bit too wild to ever be tamed. 

"Are you having a good time?"

You instantly jump five metres high, startled by the sudden voice.

The voice is low, husky, and warm against your ear. For a moment, you think you recognise it, but you can't be certain. 

You turn back to see a tall man in a dark suit wearing a black mask that covers most of his complexion. You can make out his wistful enthusiasm as he stares down at you, smiling back with his dark eyes.

"Yes, standing alone, watching people dance is brilliant," You can't help but snarl back. 

Although the man is trying to be polite, you are honestly not in the mood for small talk.

There is a moment of silence before he says, "Surely a pretty girl like you shouldn't be here alone."

You bite your tongue but it comes out all too quickly, "I would have had someone with me if they knew how to actually use a phone."

You hear a small laugh escape from his lips. "Funny you should have said that, I've been too busy with many things; like organising this charity masquerade..'

You stop and stare, your mouth open. Surely it can't be.

"Surprise!" he flashes his dazzling white teeth.

The way he speaks in that husky tone makes you catch your breath but you're also surprise by his sudden appearance, and out of all places.

"You got to me kidding me? You do know I rang you countless of times and you never answered, I mean who does that to someone?! You can't come here and expect me to take off my clothes again-"

"Well that's not a nice way to treat the man who is raising money for millions of homeless children." The voice is a warm breath against your neck as his eyes glare down at you even as he smirks gleefully. 

You can't resist the urge to do something to show your anguish but all you can do is stare at him as the orchestra changes it tune.

He then steps forward and reaches out for your hand.  
"Care for a dance?"

“I suppose that I could spare one dance for you.”

You notice him biting his lip as you reach for his hand. “I’d better make it worth your while then.”

He leads you to the center of the room, taking hold of your waist the moment that you turn to face him.

“Are you having a nice time?” you ask politely as you both start to sway to the slow rhythm of the music.  
The corners of his mouth tugs upward. “I am now.”  
You avert your gaze as your own lips curl into deep bashful smile.

You both dance in silence after that, your bodies edging ever more closer until he’s resisting the urge to press his groin into you.

“Would you like to go somewhere more private?” he suddenly whispers in your ear.

Before you can even accept or decline, he drags you out of the spacious ball room until you both find a room at the end of a corridor that leads to the gardens, dark and empty and unlocked. Moonlight streams through the large, uncovered windows, and once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you make out the shapes of a couch and several armchairs.

He leads you to the nearest one. “Sit.”

“Are you always this bossy?” you mutter, despite submitting to his demand.

“Only when I know what I want. Also,” he continues, “I’ve heard that some prefer dominant men.”

“And what makes you think I’d prefer that?”

He sits down beside you, chuckling softly when he hisses in response. “Don’t you?”

“So, what it is that you want?” you breathe, recalling your first answer to his original question.

“You.” Your eyes don’t leave his as he leans in, mouths so close that you can both feel each other exhale. He doesn’t make that final move though, and in the next moment you reach in forward to close the gap. 

Your lips are soft and moist from your lipstick, and when you moan, he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss as best as he can without your masks getting in the way. 

He captures your bottom lip between his, tugging gently before opening again and letting his tongue dive into your mouth. This seems to spur you on, and you start to edge closer to his lap and gyrate, creating a delicious friction against his erection.

He groans when you pull away abruptly. “What are you –”

You bring a finger to his lips. “We’re not supposed to be in here and I don't think I can do this after the way you treated me.” 

You suddenly can’t help but let your hand trail slowly down his neck, then his chest, coming to rest over his knee. “Besides, this isn't actually the best place, don't ya think?"

He smirks at you and replies, "Look I'm sorry, I've been busy. Let's just say there's too many clowns corrupting this city -" he turns to make sure no one is near by, "actually I do know a place we can go," and he suddenly takes your hand and leads you out the door.

The air is cooler than you expected and you shiver slightly as you adjusts to the difference in temperature. The gardens at the large hotel where the party is being held are massive. 

There are labyrinths of hedges, flowers you've never seen before, and paths that wind through the area that are completely concealed from view. You have wanted to explore the garden since you arrived but had no intentions to actually do so as you preferred to leave. Still holding his hand, you follow him throughout a maze of gravel footpaths until you finally reach what seems to be a secret entrance.

You don't dare say a word to him as he enters a four digit code into the keypad and in a flash, the door opens wide to reveal a large garage with an enture glass ceiling.

You let out a small laugh as you expected something more cosier than sitting inside a car.

"Oh come on," he jokes, pulling you along. "You said you wanted someplace different."

This is a side you never thought you would see to Bruce. The man who ignored your calls is suddenly acting like as if he's been waiting for this moment forever.

He leads you to the passenger side and soon you are both sitting in the car, unable to control yourselves as Bruce takes off both of your masks ever so slowly, keeping his fingers light against your cheek. He then starts to lace his fingers around the top of your dress, pulling down the zipper gently and slowly.  
The bra that you wear is black lace and rich, purple satin, the balconette style making the most of your breasts. What had seemed so pretty and sexy, now feels so slutty and obvious. 

“Tell me you didn’t buy this for me,” he demands quietly, staring down at your attire. Slipping a fingertip beneath one strap, he slides the satin from your shoulder and leans in to replace it with the wet warmth of his mouth. 

You face flushes with an odd combination of desire and utter embarrassment.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I bought it a year ago,” you say, getting ahold of his face with both hands and tugging his head away so you could look him in the eye.  
"I wear it all the time. For all you know, it’s my favourite.”

Bruce doesn’t look one bit convinced. 

“You’ve never worn this before, and I know, girls only ever wear their rare attire for events like this,” and while his tone is arrogant, you can see that he knows this sudden whim of the moment decision is to attract him.

“It’s true,” you admit softly, truthfully, giving up and giving in. Grasping his jaw with one hand, you bring his mouth up to yours. “But I’m wearing it now. For you,” you gently whisper into his ear, right before you kiss him.

If he had been guarded before, he has now suddenly become wide open now, devouring your mouth with a fierce, desperate hunger you can’t help but respond to greedily. Both of your teeth clash, lips mashing, heads tilting as tongues wrestle for control. 

One kiss bleeds into another and another and another, seamless, unending, gently at times only to intensify with the next slick thrust of tongue.

Part of you is screaming inside, absolutely terrified, panicked by the swell of pure emotion that threatens to overwhelm you. The rest of you is done being scared, too afraid to think of the impossible with this man. You can’t name what you feel for this man but you know it’s there. 

You know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you couldn’t handle being separated from Bruce any longer.

Bruce suddenly sinks his teeth into the soft swollen flesh of your lower lip and you whimper into his mouth, needy and soft, every cell in your body crying out for him, ever bit of you needing every last bit of him. Whatever the consequences would be, and there would be plenty, you don’t intend to let him go, not ever again.

“I want to be with you,” you whimper, like you are sharing a secret with him and unexpectedly, the asshole actually laughs.

“No shit”, he chuckles, panting beneath you, hands sliding down to your hips.

It feels like Bruce hasn’t grasped the weight of your words, what you are really telling him but it didn’t matter now. All you care about is this moment between the both of you, right here, right now.

You sit up and shrug the dress shelves from your shoulders and let the material slip down your arms to the floorboard of his car. 

Keeping your eyes on his, you reach behind you and unfastened your ridiculous bra.  
As soon as the clasp is undone, he has the scrap of satin and lace off your body, tossing it over his shoulder into the front seat.

Your bra could have been hanging from the rear view mirror for all you know but all you care about is the look on his face, love and wonder and a number of emotions reflected in his endless depths of dark eyes. Lust was chief among them at the moment.

Bruce’s hands slide up to your torso toward your bare breasts, moulding and shaping them, and learning the feel of you. You wrap your fingers loosely around his wrists and look on as he petted your flesh, touching you however he wanted. You moan a little when he leans in to plant a kiss between your breasts and nuzzle his face against yours.

Soon he moves position as he sucks in a breath, and you feel a flare of raw desire burn through you again and again, intensifying, burning hotter, brighter.

He now pulls off the dress completely, placing a hand down the back of your leg and the other spread wide between your shoulder blades, holding you firmly as his kisses began trailing down the side of her throat, and your train of thought entirely, just crash and burn.  
His kisses move again to the base of your throat and lower to your collar bone.  
Lower still, to the v and towards your cleavage again. 

Bruce’s groan is deep and low and dirty, totally unexpected from the man she saw at the gala, the sound rumbling through your chest and you ground yourself against him, hard, hips circling gracelessly. In response he bucks up against you, you flinging a leg across his lap. 

You kiss him messily, eagerly, you hair falling all around the both of you while his hands explore your bare skin. You both ground against each other, your eyelids fluttering when the unthinkable actually happens. 

When he is a deep as he could go, he stares at you.  
“Bruce” you whisper, flexing around him. The spell breaks and you move, the grip of his fingers biting into your hips. 

You never imagined anything like you. You preferred to picture his long lashes, how sweaty he’d get or how this would even happen. But now staring at him right now, you tremble as he says your name like it is the sweetest prayer he knows.

You collapse in a boneless heap against him and he strokes the length of your back, speaking nonsense in a low murmur as he softened and slips from your body. A moment later, Bruce helps you shift until you are sitting sideways across his lap. You kiss his cheek and tuck your head into the crook of his neck, your eyes drifting shut as arms wound themselves around you.  
For a long time, he simply holds you and you simply let him.

“I won’t pretend,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence between you both.

“What?” You crook your head forward.

“I won’t pretend this didn’t happen,” he repeats, fierce and low. 

You wish you could both stay there in the back of the car, wrapped around each other. You could watch the moon rise; stare up at the stars with clarity. You wish you could lie together and savour the moment, stretch it out indefinitely, make it last as long as possible.

It isn't long before you fall asleep in his arms, lulling yourself to the slow rise and fall of his chest. For once you feel safe, knowing that perhaps you finally have the infamous Bruce Wayne under your latch. There was no way he would let go.

Sunrise peaks through the windows and you groggigly anticipate Bruce whispering into your ear, "Morning," but instead there is nothing. 

In fact, the lovely Bruce Wayne has left you alone in his car. You notice he has placed his tuxedo jacket over your bare shoulders but besides from any other sort of affection, he has left you stranded.

You curse, grabbing your purse and staring at your phone. Dozens of missed calls notifications pop up from Perry but there is one text from an annoyamus number.

**_"Sorry about the awkward departure, I had a sudden staff meeting to attend to sort out a bunch of clowns who think they are in control of Gotham. Let me know when you're up. B x"_ **

You stare hard at the screen, especially at the x he left at the end of his message. Although he means well, it would have been nice if he woke you up. 

If being with this man involved him running away all the time, then what was the point of falling for someone who intended to break you heart and leave you? 

Getting back into your attire, you climb out of the car and walk out of the garage, feeling flustered knowing you were only left with your high heels to wear which aren't that comfortable to say the least.

Now you worry was a mode of transport. As you had ordered a taxi the previous night, you are now left stranded at a random venue with no way of getting home.

Unless...

You turn back to the car and open the front door and to your success, there are infact keys left. Surely it wouldn't be wrong to borrow this car, solely on the purpose that you need a lift home?

Without thinking, you twist the key and reeve the engine, feeling the grip of the steering wheel. You take a deep breath. Surely he wouldn't mind you borrowing his precious toy? 

And besides, this would be another reason for Mr. Bruce Wayne to come back and see you again...


End file.
